


Don't Believe In Curses

by fandomfairytales



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, The Mummy (1999)
Genre: "I am a librarian", Alternate Universe - The Mummy Fusion, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Badass Rey, Banter, Ben Solo is a nerd, Ben as Evelyn/Evie, Ben is a damsel in distress, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Life Debt, Past Lives, Pharaoh Kylo Ren/Slave Kira, Poe as Jonathan, Reincarnation, Rey as Rick O'Connell, Romance, Slow Burn, Smut, Snark, Treasure Hunting, Why does everyone want to go back to Hamunaptra?, You know where I'm going with this, and is proud of what he is, continues to find it hilarous, i wrote this for that line, seemed like a good idea at the time, temple desecration, who loves his books, why did you kiss me?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-11-09 02:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandomfairytales/pseuds/fandomfairytales
Summary: A Reylo Mummy AU with a twist.And some amazing art! click to viewAll Ben Solo wanted was to make his mark on the world. One great archaeological discovery, that's all it would take to prove himself to- Well, everyone...Little does he know, the Goddess Shai has been hard at work, weaving history to lead him to his destiny; only it doesn't lie beneath the sands of the fabled necropolis, Hamunaptra. Instead, she's standing on the gallows before him, her life in his hands.oOoRey understands the desert, as well as one could ever know an ever-changing landscape. She began learning its secrets early, scavenging its treasures and then she learned the way of the world. Unfortunately, the lesson came too late, landing her in Cairo Prison, on death row...She needed a miracle, and by the grace of the gods, got one; she just never expected him to be so damn attractive.





	1. The Shifting Sands of Time

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea kicking about for ages and what do you know, it distracted me from writing my other WIP, so here I am with a new fic based on The Mummy; one of my all-time favourite movies(/series, because I loved all of them). 
> 
> I don't have an update schedule for this just yet so, I apologise in advance for totally random updates. :)

oOo

 **Prologue**  

 

_Egypt, A long, long time ago…_

 

In the middle of the night, news arrived from a spy in Thebes that the Warrior Pharaoh, Kylo Ren had fallen for a slave, a nobody, and intended to make her his Queen.

Scandalised by his choice of bride and feeling slighted by their King, who frivolously cast aside tradition and months of betrothal negotiations with the Babylonians; his advisors spent the weeks before their union plotting Kira’s murder in the shadows of the palace. Whispered behind hands and backs, the couple walked by unaware of the danger lurking, their eyes too fixed on each other to notice.

On the eve of their wedding, his most trusted struck like vipers.

They kidnapped her from her chambers and carelessly dragged her kicking and screaming to a chariot waiting by the western gate, bound for the City of the Dead, Hamunaptra.

Minutes later, Kylo was roused by his guard and led the charge to pursue them; vowing to cut down any man who dared to harm her.

 

 

oOo

She reached Hamunaptra well before dawn and her masked captors immediately marched her down into the bowels of the city. Lit sconces led the way, casting eerie shadows over the painted reliefs and she shivered each time they flickered, dancing with the draft.

Winding through tunnels and secret passages, she tried to put herself above fear. Kylo would come for her, she was certain…

Unfortunately, denial was unsustainable.

They hauled her into an antechamber, throwing her across the threshold; before she could fall, (or attempt to run) she found herself supported by High Priest Snoke and wearing shackles as if by magic.

She steeled her features, not wanting to give the vile, deformed, creature the satisfaction of seeing her realise his betrayal. They had both assumed him to be harmless, just another disapproving glare among the masses that saw their love as a perversion of the old ways; a slave treated like a goddess was apparently a preposterous notion among the elite of Egypt; the people, however, adored her. Snoke had disapproved of her from the start, seething quietly across the room whenever she accompanied Kylo or happened to be in his presence.

Judging by the way her kidnappers stood on ceremony for him, they were wrong to assume he was benign; he had clearly decided to take her removal from Kylo’s side into his own hands.

She let her mind go blank, there was no way to fight back, she was vulnerable, unarmed and outnumbered, her years as a slave had taught her that resisting would only make things worse. She didn’t struggle when they strapped her down, didn’t cry out when her bare skin touched the cold marble; she was waiting for Kylo, reassured that he would come because he loved her.

Compliance was the only way to stall and Snoke was cruel enough to make it last. He taunted her with her impending doom, running his ceremonial dagger over her body, deciding where to draw first blood.

When he made up his mind, Kira finally screamed for him. White hot pain radiated from the blade buried in her abdomen, her body twisting and contorting against her bonds as it slipped deeper into her pliant flesh.

She heard Snoke chuckle darkly in her ear and recoiled when she felt his warm breath on her cheek.

“I made sure he wasn’t coming for you _Princess_ ”

Her heart sank and a lone tear ran down her cheek.

The implication struck like lightning, and Kira mourned. If Snoke was willing to execute her, regicide was not beyond him. However, acceptance of her impending demise was a comfort; she would see Kylo again soon, in the afterlife, free of suffering. Her belief was so strong she hardly felt what came next, knowing that she would be joining him somehow made death seem worth it. a world without him was worthless to her anyway.

Snoke and his underlings administered wound after wound and as she lay broken, her blood mixing with the sand below in dark grainy pools, she used the last of her fading strength to smile up at her adversary and speak one final, damning sentence.

“Death, is only the beginning.”

Her consciousness receded as her last words rang through the chamber and before the abyss of death enveloped her, she could have sworn she heard Kylo calling for her name. In her final moment, she glimpsed him one last time through her lashes, charging through the shattered door looking as wild as he had the day they met. Fleeting relief spread across his features from afar and mercifully, she slipped away before he realised how wrong he was to believe he had made it in time to save her.

 

 

oOo

When he reached her, his High Priest and his traitorous advisers mocked him from where they were restrained while he screamed and pleaded with the gods to return her spirit. Taking in the sight of her desecrated body, there was nothing left of the man he had once been, the sun had set on his sanity.

With a flick of his wrist and a sharp order, he set his guards to work; coming up with creative ways to make every member of his council complicit in her murder suffer, until their bodies eventually gave out. He left Snoke alive and untouched to witness it all, awaiting his fate; perhaps the worst of all.

Cursed for all eternity.

He watched on, his emotions lost to the void of pain in his heart as the Hom-Dai ritual began, he intervened once, not out of compassion, only to ask what Kira’s final words had been.

Coming from Snoke they gave him little comfort in his grief, so, he took considerable pleasure in slicing out his tongue personally. Leaving his men to finish their gruesome task without him.

All that had tethered him to the land of mortals was gone and Kylo knew there would be no solace in his role as Pharaoh or anything else for that matter. Drowning in sorrow, he searched for his lost love and upon discovering her body in the temple, cleaned and ready to undergo mummification; he removed his crown, unsheathed his dagger and took his rightful place beside her, once in life, now in death.

 

 

oOo


	2. A Curse On Everyone You Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Searing heat did not do wonders for the brain. Frankly, it only served to make one sluggish and wont to laze about all afternoon in the shade, curled up like an Egyptian Mau. 
> 
> But alas, Ben Solo loved his work at the museum and was far too set on proving himself to the Chandrila Scholars to ever consider slouching on the job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me past the prologue :)  
> (i also apologise for the glaring irony in the chapter title, I couldn't resist- you get a curse, and you get a curse, everybody gets a curse!!)
> 
> We are now in 'present day' 1920's Cairo, Egypt where our story continues...

oOo

_1922 Cairo, Egypt_

Searing heat did not do wonders for the brain. Frankly, it only served to make one sluggish and wont to laze about all afternoon in the shade, curled up like an Egyptian Mau.

But alas, Ben Solo loved his work at the museum and was far too set on proving himself to the Chandrila Scholars to ever consider slouching on the job. 

Egypt was the only place Ben could imagine himself, even if he was stuck inside most of the day; history was being made here for a second time and the entire city had an air of excitement as the desert continued to reveal its secrets. However, Ben had not been fortunate enough to be part of it. At least not in any direct sense. 

A young graduate with zero field experience; no one took him seriously despite his considerable knowledge and to make matters worse, his name meant he was often overlooked or accused of nepotism by the academic community. Only in his case, it was somewhat founded, his full name left very little room for being his own man or making his own mark on the world. 

Benjamin Skywalker-Naberrie-Amidala-Organa-Solo. Pretentious, right? Add the title of Prince and it was down-right ridiculous. A perfect storm of hyphens that made him want to burn every shred of evidence proving his existence. 

Son of Her Royal Highness Leia Organa, a Princess twice over, patron of antiquities and Han Solo, the greatest smuggler that ever lived, turned collector and consort. 

Grandson of the intrepid explorer Anakin Skywalker and Queen Padmé Naberrie-Amidala. 

Nephew of Luke Skywalker, the man at the forefront of Celtic and medieval archaeology. 

Oh, and he couldn’t forget his namesake; Obi-Wan ‘Ben’ Kenobi. Who singlehandedly uncovered the secrets of the ancient Jedi religion and disappeared without a trace, along with his wife on an expedition in Borneo, shortly after reuniting his Uncle and Mother. 

He had a lot to live up to and even more to prove. So, he stayed in his safe little bubble, waiting for a chance he could truly call his own, working as an unpaid assistant in the Cairo museum, curating the library and pouring coffee for the scholars. 

Surrounded by dusty tomes, he would lose himself in stacking shelves, imagining working in the Great Library of Alexandria, thousands of years ago to entertain his idling mind. 

Every day he told himself he would get his chance; his funding would come through or he’d find some artefact or other in the desert to satisfy the requirements for a proper archaeological dig. 

‘The library is temporary… The library is temporary… The library—’

He narrowed his eyes at the book glaring out at him from the wrong section and sighed, his forehead bouncing off the ladder rung with a frustrated thump. 

“Seti the First… What are you doing up here?” 

He wriggled it free and weighed it in his hands, balancing on the ladder while he brushed cobwebs from its spine with a loving hand. As often as his job bored and annoyed him, he considered books friends, always ready to convey their knowledge like a friendly chat. 

Turning gingerly, he reached across the shelves hoping to slip the book back into its rightful place. With his excessively long arms it shouldn’t have been an issue however, he had grossly miscalculated. 

He reached again, pushing himself further away from his perch and subsequently lost his balance. An armful of books rained down on the floor with painfully loud thumps, while Ben tried desperately to regain his footing. His scrabbling attempts only seemed to make things worse. 

The ladder creaked with protest as he attempted to shuffle closer to the bookcase and clearly decided to give up on holding his weight at such an awkward angle. 

_SNAP!_

He let out a rather girlish yelp, there was a flash of pain as he fell and then nothing but the abyss. 

He woke surrounded by carnage. 

His vision drifted in and out of focus, fragmenting as he surveyed the damage until he realised his glasses were shattered. 

He’d add them to the growing pile on his desk later. 

Papers fluttered down around him, and he could hardly bring himself to look at the collapsed bookshelves surrounding him like fallen dominoes. The weight of cleaning up sank in when his boss stomped in wearing a furious expression that almost made Ben cower. 

He was so incensed he could hardly speak. Stammering and stuttering until finally, he found the words to sufficiently convey the emotions behind his bugged eyes and the steam coming out of his ears. 

“You bumbling fool! Look! Just look at my library! You’re a curse upon everyone you meet, boy.”

“I’m sorry Sir, I’ll have it fixed in a jiffy I swear.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. 

“I should have known it was a trap when your mother asked me to take you on as an assistant. Tell me, _why_ do I put up with you?”

“Well, Dr. Ackbar, I’m fluent in English, Arabic, French and German, I can decipher, read and write hieroglyphs and Hieratic, and you told my mother you needed an intuitive study to run your librar-”

“I put up with you because your parents are our finest patrons!” He sighed, scrubbing a callused hand down his face, muttering under his breath “Allah help me.”

His boss raised his hand and Ben instinctively flinched away.

“Come on, son. You need to have that cut looked at.”

Ackbar’s expression had softened considerably and Ben relaxed, tentatively feeling around his head, his fingers returning slick, glistening darkly with fresh blood. 

Oh…

Suddenly he felt woozy, his head spun, and he wobbled precariously as he dumbly tried to wipe his unfeeling fingers clean. 

Well, that was just...

oOo

_Meanwhile in a dingy bar across the city_

“You’re telling me you’ve actually seen Hamunaptra?”

“Are you insinuating I’m a liar?”

“No ma’am, but—”

“But a frail little woman like me couldn’t possibly have been all the way to Hamunaptra in this ungodly heat, certainly not with all those soldiers around making such a mess of things…”

Poe couldn’t help smiling at the tiny, confrontational woman mocking him with her exaggerated British lilt. Fluttering her lashes, pretending to clutch her pearls while she shot him down with both barrels, he had to admit she was just the cutest little thing north of Luxor.

Bit of a shame to steal from her, he thought in passing.

He’d heard tell of a girl in the marketplace, a Brit hanging around ‘Kanata’s’ with a map to the City of the Dead. Secrets like that never stayed secret long. 

He just didn’t realise _she_ was the map. 

Although the octagonal box she toyed with in the pocket of her waistcoat, partially hidden behind swathes of gauzy fabric, was enough to merit going to the effort of picking her pocket. The reassuring way she touched it as she recounted her tale, told him all he needed to know about it’s worth. 

After all, reading people was _supposedly_ his greatest talent. (Few knew it was actually pickpocketing). 

He leaned forward, appraising the quarter bottle of home-made (what he hoped was) vodka between them, while feigning interest in her vague, gradually slurring description of the terrain and landmarks. 

She was doing considerably well despite her diminutive size. He’d assumed that it would take less than half the bottle to drink her under the table; the fact he was feeling rather fuzzy himself, indicated quite clearly, he was wrong. 

However, Poe still had his wits and ambitions about him. They finished the bottle; the burn that accompanied swallowing long forgotten and made to exit the pub as the best of friends. 

Arms linked, she supported his weight as they wove through low tables and cushions, narrowly avoiding tripping on shisha hoses with every second step. All it took was a stumble, the lightest touch hidden behind his drunkenness and he had it. 

The metal warmed in his fingers and he played into his inebriation, laughing off the fact he’d had to grope her; straightening his coat and slipping the little box in his pocket while she was distracted by her outrage. 

She was certainly not one to be taken advantage of, the moment she managed to shake off her shock, her fist was hurtling toward him like a comet. Her jab connected with enough force to give him whiplash, blood immediately trickled from his nose, slicking his fingers while he attempted to reset it. 

All in all, it was unfortunate timing, for both her and his looks (he’d have a classically painful Black eye by evening); in the same moment she attacked, the fuzz rounded the corner; just in time to witness her spectacular punch. Thankfully they were too preoccupied wrangling her into a set of cuffs to notice the fellow she decked had slipped away. 

So perhaps not entirely unfortunate, he didn’t really have time to stop and feel guilty.

If his brother found out how he’d acquired the box there would be hell to pay, but neither of them would complain if it fetched a decent price; Ben had his dreams to finance and Poe… Poe would find some vice or other to fritter it away on; be it men, women, wine or gambling. 

As he made his way back towards the museum, he wondered what Ben would make of the box, he was always the brains (although he still managed to contribute his fair share of brawn). Poe, on the other hand, was better at handling real life, a charmer through and through; his brother was more the strong, silent, bookish type. Chalk and Cheese they were, and yet nothing without each other. 

Without him, Ben wouldn’t have left his demeaning job, working as an assistant to Andrew Snoke, the head of the Starkiller Project. A shoddy organisation if he ever saw one, revealed to be a front, dealing in stolen artefacts; Ben was lucky to escape before it collapsed on top of him. 

And without Ben, who knew where Poe would be; certainly not in Egypt, hot on the trail of a treasure hoard to rival Solomon’s temple and the Holy Grail. 

After winding his way through back alleys and side streets, he finally reached his destination, creeping in a backdoor as silently as he could. He wasn’t technically allowed in, after a mishap with a rather significant canopic jar, so, stealth was a must. He slipped into Ben’s office if you could call it that; it was a hole in the wall with a door, and settled in to wait. 

The second the Museum closed, Poe was up and searching, bored out of his mind for the last twenty minutes spent waiting. He slunk through darkened halls until there was only one place left to investigate; the Curator’s office. 

Naturally, Ben was there, stretched out on a worn looking chaise, sporting an ostentatious white bandage. At least he had a viable excuse for the intrusion.

“I don’t recall sending anyone to fetch you yet, Mr. Dameron?”

Poe shrugged and reached for his cigarette case, his action halted midway when he met Ackbar’s displeased stare, ‘What would your Mother think?’ was heavily implied.

“Who gave him the shiner?”

Poe couldn’t help but chuckle at the tale Ackbar spun; Ben’s klutz attacks were often the stuff of legend but knocking himself out would be the height of blackmail for years to come. Still, it wouldn’t do to have to carry him home. 

“May I?”

He stood and reached for the pitcher on Ackbar’s desk, spurred on by his indifferent wave and immediately crossed the room, unceremoniously dumping it over Ben’s face. 

They both sputtered and coughed; Ben with indignation at his rude awakening and Poe with uncontrollable laughter. 

He watched Ben warily consider his offer of a hand up and once he was back on his feet, quickly steered his brother out of his boss’ office, homeward bound with his ‘prize’ burning a hole in his pocket.

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're liking this so far, please feel free to leave kudos comments and feedback. 
> 
> I love hearing your opinions and thoughts and answering questions (no spoilers though- because I probably haven't written it yet haha).


	3. A Waste Of Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ben had never seen anything quite like it. 
> 
> The small box was clearly something special; so, he pestered his brother with questions about its origins. 
> 
> Unfortunately, its acquisition came under less than savoury circumstances.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 and it's a bit of a missing scene (between burning the map and going to the prison) so, enjoy. 
> 
> As for casting; non-human SW characters named in the human mummyverse will appear as they did onscreen. Just to avoid any confusion and for the sake of my aesthetics :P

 

oOo

Ben had never seen anything quite like it.

The small box was clearly something special; so, he pestered his brother with questions about its origins.

Unfortunately, its acquisition came under less than savoury circumstances.

In other words, his adopted brother was an incorrigible, sticky-fingered, thief and incredibly lucky he didn’t end up in prison himself.

Ben worked on the sequence to open it until it was inevitably time to return, and right the chaos he had accidentally wrought in the museum library.

It was all he could think about while he laboured righting bookcases and after hours of mindless sorting, it finally came to him. He bolted for his office and snatched the box out of his satchel, trying it one more time and smiling to himself when it sprung open with a satisfying click.

Unfortunately, Dr. Ackbar had decided he had some errand or other to bestow upon him and caught sight of the artefact before Ben could hide it.

“What do you have there, boy?”

“Pardon?”

“Behind your back son.” He sighed and shook his head “Honestly, you’d think with a father like Han you’d know how to tell a convincing lie.”

There was no point playing dumb; Ben presented the box and suppressed a possessive scowl when Ackbar plucked it from his hand, turning it over as he attempted to crack it.

To Ben’s shock and annoyance, it opened on his first try. His entire body chilled with regret at the sight of folded papyrus inside. How had he missed that?

“Where did you find this?”

“In the marketplace.”

“Really?”

“It was a real steal.” He replied with a hint of irony.

Ackbar merely quirked a brow, closed the box and tossed it back; turning on his heel and exiting without whatever it was he came in for. Most odd.

A millisecond after the door closed Ben had the box open again, now glaringly empty. He seethed and marched down the hall with the intention of reclaiming what was rightfully his… Well, technically Poe’s.

He practically kicked the door open in his haste, barging in and snatching the telephone receiver out of Ackbar’s hands, slamming it down with finality.

He stood resolute, arms folded, and expression set in a vicious scowl. He refused to voice the accusation, preferring to imply it and wait for Ackbar to respond. It was not what he expected.

“It’s for the best Ben.”

“Really? And how could you possibly know that?”

“Because men who find this box tend to lose their lives over it.”

“Then you’ve seen it before?”

“No, but I’ve heard the tales, just like everyone else.”

Ackbar reached into his coat and retrieved the papyrus, unfolding it with care and placing it open on his desk for Ben to study.

The Hieratics in the corner translated to Hamunaptra; Ben’s heart stopped.

“It’s a map…” He breathed.

“Mm, very observant of you Solo.”

“…To the city of the dead, the lost city… I can’t believe it.”

“Good, then you understand, best to stick to that train of thought…”

Ben squinted up at his boss with a quizzical expression, unsure of his place in the conversation and in need of clarification.

 

“…I refuse to let you throw away your career chasing fairy tales in the desert; you have talent, Solo. To pursue this would be a pointless waste of it.”

Indignation burned in his chest; his jaw ticked as he bit back a litany of sarcastic responses, before responding in a measured, slightly clinical tone.

“This map is literally the stuff of legend. If it's authentic, the seal would make it at least four thousand years old. Look at the cartouche here, I’m certain its Seti the First—”

“BENJAMIN!”

His eyes snapped up and he jolted to attention like a child being scolded.

“You are a scholar, not a treasure hunter! Hamunaptra is nothing more than a myth, a tale to give men false hope and put children to sleep...”

Ben’s focus returned the hand-drawn miracle before him and he bit back the insult resting on the tip of his tongue, swallowing it down before it escaped and got him fired.

He straightened and took a deep calming breath before attempting a rebuttal. He needed his job, but he wanted the map so he would have to fight for both.

“You have undeniable proof right in front of you. How can you sit there and claim that it would be a waste of time and talent to pursue this?”

He turned his back, anger starting to simmer and continued, finding it easier to face away from the man who had been present for a considerable portion of his childhood.

“-I wouldn’t need funding, just time; three weeks and if I’m wrong, I’ll never bother the board with another grant request.”

He turned, waiting for a response and for the third time in as many days, felt that he might pass out.

Ackbar was leaning forward, map in hand, listening to his proposition, ‘unaware’ that he was holding the corner of the map directly above the lit candelabra illuminating his desk.

Ben snatched the paper away, dropping it on the stone floor and batting at the flames frantically, ignoring the searing heat against his hands. When he saw the state of it, he wanted to cry. It was completely useless; ruined.

He picked up what was left of the map and his dignity and stormed out, without another word.

 

oOo

Ben arrived home a pinwheel of emotion, a slight breeze and he would start to spin. The only thing he was certain of was the authenticity of the destroyed map tucked into his coat. Forgetting his hasty exit, he reached for his satchel to hang it up and realised he hadn’t retrieved when he passed his office. Boy, he hoped Ackbar didn’t take his hasty exit as a resignation.

Feeling weary and disheartened, Ben headed for the liquor cabinet, selecting a decent Scottish whisky and pouring himself considerably more than a finger. He didn’t nurse it for long and by the time Poe arrived home, the bottle was close to empty.

“Aw, you started without me.”

Ben scoffed and waved Poe into the armchair across from him.

“Wanna tell me what happened, big guy?”

He sniffed lightly and guiltily dropped his eyes to the burnt map lying on the coffee table. Poe followed his gaze and after taking a minute to translate (Ben had always been the quicker of the two) stared Ben down until he explained.

“Found it in the box you stole… _I_ think it’s real.”

“Was it like that when you found it?”

“Nooo.” Ben sighed into his glass. “Ackbar walked in on me opening it, stole it and burned it so I wouldn’t waste my _potential_ …”

He giggled and poured the last of the whisky into his glass, smirking with satisfaction at the liquid reaching the rim without spilling over.

“… Like I had any potential to begin with.”

“Aw, now I wouldn’t say that. You got us proof that Ackbar thinks its real, that counts for something.”

“But I… He ruined the map?”

“I think I might have a solution for that.”

Drunk as he was, Ben still had enough wit to be wary of Poe’s Cheshire cat grin. It never failed to bring mischief and excitement into their lives, often the precursor to some hairbrained scheme that got them both into trouble. He just hoped it wouldn’t get him fired or killed.

 

oOo

“Rise and shine sleepy head!”

Ben groaned and swatted at the annoyance hovering above him like a housefly. His head throbbed with every syllable and if Poe came any closer Ben would happily strangle him and go right back to sleep.

“Wha d’youwan?” He growled into his pillow, burying himself deeper into his mattress.

“I want you to GET THE HELL UP!”

Ben startled; tangled in his sheets, he scrambled to sit up in a rather ungraceful manner, his head throbbing in protest. Then, nausea struck, reminding him of his pitiful antics the previous night and he was forced to comply with Poe’s demand.

Ben knew there would be no escaping the teasing when Poe followed him to the bathroom. He retched for a few minutes, glaring daggers at his brother between waves of sickness until finally, it passed.

He stood, sagging against the sink in defeat and finally caught sight of himself in the mirror; it was almost enough to give him a fright. His hair stuck up wildly, a dried line of drool trailed across his cheek and though the swelling from his library mishap had gone down, the bruises had started to darken, standing out against his alabaster skin.

“Don’t ever let me drink that much again.”

“But I like Drunk Ben. He sings, and his jokes are actually funny.”

“Poe, I’m serious, I feel like death.”

“Yeah, you look like him too. C’mon, you get cleaned up, I’ll make breakfast, that ought to put you to rights; got a big day ahead of us, can’t have you lookin’ any less than your best… AND DON’T FORGET THE CONCEALER!” He hollered from down the hall.

Ben had already started taking Poe’s advice, excited at the prospect of a decent breakfast in the aftermath of ‘the purge’; so much so, he almost disregarded his last comment. He scurried out of the bathroom the second his comment registered.

“Uh… Poe, what do you mean ‘big day’?”

“Well, as I said last night whilst you were focused on drowning in a bottle of Glenturret, I might know a gal who can give us directions to you know where...You weren’t exactly in a state to remember.”

“Oh… Well then, where do we find her?”

“Uhmmm, you’ll see.”

Ben’s ears pricked up at the obvious avoidance of his question. However, rather than confront his brother on what was clearly a point of guilt, he resolved to ponder it from the cool comfort of his shower.

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AU headcanon: Poe Dameron gets punched...a lot. Concealer is a must. Ben believes that the pen is mightier than the sword but with a dad like Han, he knows how to take and throw a decent punch.
> 
> Thanks for reading, I hope you've enjoyed this update
> 
> please feel free to leave comments feedback and kudos, its the best part of my day getting to geek out with you all :)


	4. Not A Total Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was impossible to prepare for the heat in Cairo. In the middle of summer, the city sweltered and baked, the air shimmering as though the entire city might evaporate like magic. Fair skinned as he was, Ben relished in it. 
> 
> He took to the climate like he was born to it, despite numerous unfortunate sunburns. 
> 
> Poe on the other hand, never ceased his whinging and complaining; to which Ben always replied; ‘It’s Egypt, what did you expect?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty; first things first, sorry about the wait; two Dramione fests and a bunch of procrastinating later and I'm back :) thanks for hanging on everyone 
> 
> second; here we (finally) go, Rey and Ben, sharing a scene :D

 

oOo

It was impossible to prepare for the heat in Cairo. In the middle of summer, the city sweltered and baked, the air shimmering as though the entire city might evaporate like magic. Fair skinned as he was, Ben relished in it.

He took to the climate like he was born to it, despite numerous unfortunate sunburns. Poe on the other hand, never ceased his whinging and complaining; to which Ben always replied; ‘It’s Egypt, what did you expect?”

Poe followed him out of their building and Ben made a game of timing how long it took Poe to initiate their usual routine.

“Christ almighty it’s boiling!”

Thirty-six seconds.

“I know.”

Poe began patting his pockets and Ben rolled his eyes. ‘Here it comes’ he thought with a private smirk.

“Wanna take a cab?”

“Am I paying for it?”

“Oh, my dear. _Sweet_. Baby. Brother… Absolutely.”

“You know, one of these days I might be short, and you’ll have to foot the bill.”

“Benjamin, _short_ is not a word I would ever use in reference to yourself.”

“Ugh... That’s not what I meant, and you know it. Stop trying to change the subject…”

Ben stuck out his hand and hailed the next cab he sighted, clambering in alongside Poe, knowing that they would likely go to their graves squabbling over Poe’s exorbitant ways.

“Cairo Prison, my good man.”

He turned to Ben and explained.

“I made a few calls, she ended up in high security, something about biting a guard, nasty piece of work…”

Ben’s hands curled into tight fists in his lap the longer his brother casually droned on. He knew exactly how Poe had come into possession of the box; the late realisation of the fact its original owner had been wrongfully imprisoned made him sick to his stomach. He didn’t often need to consider the implications of his brother’s criminal inclinations, it was just something Poe did for a thrill or a quick buck when he needed it, but landing an innocent in prison; A woman no less, was nothing short of unchivalrous and abhorrent. Ben needed to get her out. Right after he beat his brother to a pulp. He almost felt sorry for the cabbie when he lunged across the back seat, his first awkward slap connecting with an obnoxious clap, hard enough to make Poe clutch at his smarting arm.

“How!” Slap “Could!” Slap “You!” Slap.

Poe raised his arms to protect himself, yelping with each blow despite the fact Ben was quite obviously holding back (to a significant degree). He waited for an answer and the moment Poe peeked out from behind his defences, his ire re-intensified, and he took advantage of his momentary vulnerability.

“Well, at least I didn’t lie and say I found it on a dig somewhere.”

“You robbed her and omitted the fact you got her arrested!”

“ _No_. Well, yes… Okay, I did, but it was just a little tiff she had with the constable; it was a cool your heels in a cell for a few days kind of thing.”

“What do you mean, _tiff_ ”

Poe looked down at his lap, biting his lip nervously.

“Oh, well the officer overheard her accuse me of theft and…”

He trailed off, mumbling the last part so quietly it was impossible for Ben to decipher it, in his best imitation of their mother he asked again, forcing Poe to be honest as his dishonest resolve cracked under the weight of Ben’s stare.

“Maybe, arrested her for daring to hit a man.”

Ben barely heard their driver yelling at them in broken English. His rage turned the world deathly silent. The next slap was almost deafening.

“You didn’t even know what you were stealing, what if it was worthless? Either way, you just left her there! Do you have any idea what they do to women in places like that? Christ, what would Mother say?”

His anger ebbed when he caught Poe’s ashamed eye. At least he had the decency to look the part. Poe deflated, sinking into the worn leather seat, looking very much like he wished he would melt into it.

“…We’re going to get her now; can’t that be the part that matters? Just-” Poe paused to sigh deeply “-Please be smart and question her first, while you can, she might look like a pretty pair of eyes, but she’s no damsel.”

Ben worked to muster a calm reply, and after a beat or two realised it was somewhat futile; ‘Fine’ was simply too passive aggressive, but fortunately, he was interrupted before he could begin by their exasperated driver, signalling for them to pay up and get out. They did not intend to linger.

 

oOo

Ben walked in ahead of his brother, forging a path through the guards at the gate to seek out the Warden.

They reached his office and Ben quickly took the lead, Poe was jittery speaking to law enforcement on a good day and if he let him attempt to charm the odious man before them, they would likely end up in cells themselves for some nervous admission of guilt or other.

“What do you want?”

The warden turned in his chair and Ben was forced to stifle a laugh. He was practically gelatinous; shining with sweat, his stomach distended and comically bloated. Paired with his voice, nasal and grumbling at the same time, Ben could hardly keep a straight face and he could tell Poe was faring no better behind him.

He glanced down at the nameplate on the desk, taking a moment to compose himself before replying; no need for formal pleasantries or introductions in a place as harsh as Cairo Prison.

“Mister Plutt, I’ll get right to the point. I need to speak with one of your prisoners.”

“Are you family?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then fuck off.”

Ben gaped at the warden’s unexpected rudeness, unsure of how to continue after the verbal equivalent of having a door slammed in his face. He glanced down at his shoes, thinking he was defeated when a bright idea struck.

For once he was glad of his penchant for black attire.

“What I mean is, sir; we are not family by blood but by faith. My partner and I are missionaries, spreading the word of God to those in need of it most.”

“Missionaries? Bah! I don’t care for your religion, but I would let you in, just to see you fail.”

Plutt laughed mockingly, his mass jiggling with the effort.

“I need to speak with the English girl transferred here two days ago.”

Plutt looked him up and down with a knowing sneer and pulled himself out of the chair. Waddling over to a cabinet and grabbing a set of keys, gesturing for them to follow.

They entered the yard with the taunting whoops and hollers of the prisoners ringing around them. Pausing for a moment by the gallows, while Plutt ordered his men in Arabic to fetch the girl.

Looking around, Ben couldn’t help but imagine how awful living under such poor conditions would be, his mind quickly turned to the girl and sympathy set in.

“So, why exactly was she transferred here? This isn’t really a place fit for a lady.”

“I asked her that myself when they brought her, feral little thing claimed it was for having a good time.”

Plutt chuckled as though he expected them to laugh along with him, thankfully the awkward silence was broken by the slam of a door opening. Three guards dragged a fourth figure out of the darkened tunnel into the harsh daylight.

They threw the prisoner in like she weighed nothing, and she caught herself on the iron bars before she smacked into them, kneeling before them, looking just as the warden described; Feral.

“Why, she’s just a filthy criminal!” Ben exclaimed quietly to his brother in earshot of the warden, playing his part.

Plutt gave them an encouraging nod and a nudge, forcing them to step toward the cell, thankfully out of range of prying ears.

She snapped at the guards when they got too close, baring her teeth, cackling dryly when they jumped back; and then her attention turned to them. Her gaze was wild, terrified and penetrating and fortunately, directed at Poe.

Satisfied they posed no immediate threat, she calmed, looking them over with a critical eye.

“Who’s the stiff?”

Poe choked on his humour as she gestured to Ben with a shackled hand. He clenched his jaw, biting back a retort while Poe introduced them.

“Actually, that’s my brother, Ben. I’m Poe.”

“Well, at least he’s not a total loss…”

Poe snorted and Ben narrowed his eyes at her, hoping she wouldn’t notice the flush spreading under his starched collar and up his neck if he looked infuriated enough.

Checking the warden had his back turned, Ben finally approached her, his curiosity winning out over his dislike of her ability to distract him. Beneath the grime, bruises, matted hair and as he approached, the smell (though based on the conditions and male presence, it was understandable she didn't bathe) she was really quite striking; her eyes flashed with mystery and fire, boring into him with unprecedented skill.

A respectable distance from the bars, out of sight of the guards, he removed the puzzle box from his waistcoat.

“We, uh… came across your puzzle box…”

She quirked a split brow at him with a silent ‘did you now?’

“…A-and we’ve come to ask you about it.”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. You came to ask me about Hamunaptra.”

He heard Poe startle at her tactless candour, before shuffling closer in tandem.

“How do you know the box pertains to Hamunaptra?”

“Because that’s where I was when I found it” she replied sarcastically.

He shared a quick look with Poe, letting him continue.

“How do we know that’s not a load of codswallop?"

She scowled and softened in an instant, a hint of recognition sparking in its stead.

“Hey… don’t I know you?”

“Well, the funny thing is—”

Her fist flew through the bars in an instant, connecting with his nose and knocking him flat on his arse. She was rewarded with a hard whack from the guard behind, her head smacking into the iron with a resonant clang. Ben knelt to her level leaning in despite the show of violence.

“You were actually at Hamunaptra?”

She looked at him sardonically and he assumed it was due to his awed expression.

“I just _decked_ your brother…”

Evidently, it was at his blatant disregard for his own personal safety; getting too close to the animal’s cage as it was.

“Well, if I know my brother, he deserved it.”

He glanced back and saw Poe concentrating on the door, straining to hear their conversation.

“Yeah, I was there; Seti’s place, city of the dead… About as impressive as you’d imagine.”

“C-could you tell _me_ how to get there?”

A glint of mischief and a small smile crossed her features and Ben felt himself melt (not from the heat). She stuck her face between the bars and coaxed him closer.

“You really want to know?”

Their eyes locked and everything external crumbled from his awareness. It was fast becoming more than academic curiosity drawing him to her.

“You really, _really_ want to know?”

“Well, yes…”

She surged forward, catching him off guard; With a sharp yank on his tie, his lips crashed against hers and he floundered, violently ripping himself away.

“Then get me the hell outta here!”

Scooting back like he’d been bitten rather than kissed, he wondered if it was obvious that beneath his shock, he’d enjoyed it, or at least the thrill of it… Nope, that was a lie, he enjoyed everything about it and would be sure to agonise over it later.

His heart was pounding as they dragged her away, struggling against her bonds and captors, pulled back into the unwelcoming darkness as the warden returned.

“Where are they taking her?!”

Ben demanded.

“To be hanged.”

He almost rushed Plutt; he admitted it so nonchalantly it made Ben’s blood boil. After three days and no trial, they intended to hang her; it didn’t make sense. Upon catching Ben’s look, he smiled, an ugly sight, all greenish teeth, sarcasm and halitosis.

“Apparently, she had a very good time.”

 

oOo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please feel free to let me know how I'm doing; Kudos, comments and feedback give me life and endless inspiration :) 
> 
> Hopefully, I'll have another chapter up very soon, but with no current fests (yet), I might go back to alternating with my other two WIPS that are in desperate need of updates. As soon as I work out a schedule, I will let you guys know, thank you for understanding; between work, sport, multiple music lessons and a teensy social life, keeping up with writing gets a lil difficult, but I love it so I will do my utmost to keep fresh updates coming. 
> 
> till next time  
> xo EM

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for giving this a read.
> 
> Please feel free to leave comments, feedback and Kudos, I love hearing back and chatting to you, it genuinely makes my day :D 
> 
> Or, come and say hi over on [Tumblr @emilythenotsostrange](http://emilythenotsostrange.tumblr.com/)
> 
> xo- Em


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